


Drink Up

by ohrabbitheart



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angry Daryl, Angst, Beth Puts Up With Too Much Shit, But He Is Also Incredible, Daryl Is A Child, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Daryl, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:32:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohrabbitheart/pseuds/ohrabbitheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The I Never scene (and everything that follows) from 4x12 "Alone".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink Up

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after someone on tumblr saw the scene and suggested that Beth would say she's never had sex to be followed by Daryl obliging her. I, however, took it in another direction. What if he also hasn't?

It was just supposed to be a harmless game of I Never. In retrospect, it seemed like a pretty stupid thing to do considering the constant danger, the age-gap, and their differing personalities. But Beth was tired of being alone. She needed him to feel something, even if it was the crimson rage simmering just below the surface. That's why she wanted the drink in the first place. That's why she fought him and stomped away from their camp in search of something mind-numbing. If he was going to continue being an island, at least she'd be able to drown her sorrows in a glass of booze instead of his tumultuous seas. It had to be better company anyway. Surprisingly, he agreed to aid her in her search as he lead the way through the woods to the abandoned cabin he had stumbled across with Michonne. He poured her her very first glass of alcohol. They sat in the relative quiet, hardly talking - again. And then she suggested the game in an effort to breathe life into the statue she found herself bound to.

That's how they ended up here in the sweltering Georgia heat with the sun beating down on them from overhead and a dead Walker pinned to a tree. She could still feel his hands on her wrist from when he had grabbed her and dragged her out of the cabin to "teach her how to shoot a crossbow". She could could still feel his sweat mingling with her own around her neck where he had held her in a headlock while he played some modified game of target practice that implemented pool on the dead man. And she still felt the sensation of drops of walker blood drying on her skin after she put an end to Daryl's "fun".

Daryl had done everything in his power to break the girl, to make her give up and leave him the hell alone. But none of it had worked. Not the insults. Not mocking her. Not pulling her out into the overgrown brush that threatened to swallow the front yard and forcing her into a headlock while he showed her just how ugly he could be. How volatile. She was a Greene, like Hershel. A tough son of a bitch who still ended up dead. What the hell was the point in getting attached when every single thing he ever had never lasted?

"What do you want from me, girl? Huh?"

Beth didn't hesitate as she answered him with words she'd been too afraid to confront him with until now. "I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anythin'! Like nothing we went through matters! Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you! It's bullshit!"

Again her assumption of him took him aback. "Is that what you think?"

"That's what I know." She stood straighter, taller, and met his gaze head on with her jaw clenched and her eyes on fire.

But he couldn't let her win that easily, and he refused to show his admiration for the girl. The weakest of the old group, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually one of the strongest. Like her father. The thought was enough to spur him on. "You don't know nothin'."

"I know you look at me, and you just see another dead girl." She angrily wiped the sweat from her brow. "I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I survived, and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it! And you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid."

His steely gaze returned, all teeth and snarling. "I ain't afraid of nothin'."

"I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me." Beth paused long enough to watch as Daryl turned away, his chin quivering half a second in the sudden welling of anger and remorse that he'd tried to hold down for so long, but she wouldn't be deterred. "And now, God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

His anger won out in the end, and he snapped at her as they continued their dance to a song that grew staler by the second. "Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear! Your whole family's gone, all you can do is go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch!"

"Screw you! You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it! Everyone we know's dead!"

"You don't know that!"

"Might as well be 'cause you ain't never gonna see them again!" He knew he found the sweet spot as he watched the breath catch in her throat. Just a moment. That's all he really needed to make her feel exactly as he did. Dead. Empty. Gone. "Rick... You ain't never gonna see Maggie again!"

She'd had enough. Enough playing cat and mouse. Enough screaming and fighting and being verbally beaten for feeling too much when he refused to acknowledge any feeling at all. He'd never give up. Not until he had the last word. Not until he destroyed them both in his quest to punish himself.

Beth grabbed at him."Daryl, just stop!"

But he pulled away, his back to her. His last defense to protect himself. "No! Governor rode right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped lookin'. Maybe because I gave up. That's on me!"

"Daryl..." An apology hung heavily on her tongue as she reached for him once more, but he shifted away from her again.

"And your dad..."

She watched him as he spoke, her eyes moving from his shoulders to his legs and back again. He was breaking, shedding the armor and revealing what lay hidden behind the walls. Beth felt a sharp stab of pain in her gut for her part in making it happen. Necessary or not, it was hurting her just as much.

"Maybe I coulda done somethin'."

In an instant, her arms were around him, her cheek placed firmly against the angel wings on his back. Her guardian angel with a broken halo and a wing in the fire. He made a feeble attempt at shrugging her off of him but she held tight, and he eventually gave up the fight. The contact gave him a moment of clarity. All of his pain and anger seemed to dissipate from this one act. This one touch that somehow made him see his worth and his folly. He bowed his head and cried. She held him tighter, not forcing him to face her or gather her hands in his as his body shook with great sobs.

* * *

Night had fallen, and the crickets sang their ancient song while Beth and Daryl sat across from one another on the edge of the haphazard porch. Each had their back to a rotting wooden post, a mason jar at their side. It was the kind of perfect night that made them both remember the time before. The time when Beth could sit in the old rocking chair by the front door that looked out over the Greene family farm. The time Daryl had his dad's old shed to himself where he quietly skinned a deer after a good hunt. The only thing that illuminated their memories was the moon. For the first time in days, they were both content with the silence; Beth no longer felt alone, and Daryl no longer felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"So, you've never been to jail or had frozen yogurt or got anything from Santa." Beth leaned her head back against the post, her hands resting between her raised knees. "I never believed in him anyway."

"Didn't this get ya in trouble last time?"

"Yeah, but I'm willin' to give it another shot, Mr. Dixon."

"Alright." He grimaced slightly at her reference to him and let out a puff of air from his lungs with a smirk, his hand reaching for the jar he'd refilled with water. "I never swam in the ocean."

Beth swallowed another gulp, and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I never broke any bones."

Once again, Daryl found himself taking a drink. "Merle. Broke my arm after he caught me playin' with his model cars when we were kids."

The girl nodded. "Your turn."

He put the jar back down beside him, his hand toying with his knife. "I never went to prom."

Beth lifted the jar to her lips. "Jimmy." The moonshine burned its way down her esophagus, but she reveled in it. It made her bold. It made her brave. "I never... had sex."She figured it was the right thing to say after accusing him so blatantly of being a felon earlier in the day. She had to bare a part of herself that made her uncomfortable. She could feel her cheeks reddening, either from the booze or from her own embarrassment, she wasn't sure. "That's 'cause of my daddy always chasing Jimmy off", she quickly concluded, her eyes flying to his face.

An uneasy silence fell between them as his eyes locked on hers. Neither seemed to breathe as they stared one another down. Unlike earlier when he glared at her from across the broken table, there was no anger or frustration. They were just two deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler. Beth could feel the heat rising into her cheeks. Daryl turned his gaze out over the brambles in the yard, his fingers fidgeting over the handle of his blade.

After several long minutes of silence, Daryl countered, "Drink up."

Instead, Beth found herself relaxing. "I get why my dad stopped drinkin'."

Happy not to have to answer anymore questions, he asked, "Ya feel sick?"

"Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time."  _To always be this brave. To always feel this weightless and strong. To always feel like we're the only two left, and we have nothing to be ashamed of_. "That's bad."

"You're lucky you're a happy drunk."

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

He took the point of his knife and stuck it into the wooden column between them."Yeah. I'm a dick when I'm drunk." His eyes focused on her. An apology never uttered. She was brave. She was beautiful. She didn't deserve his abuse. He eyed the knife and returned it to his side, his head bowed.


End file.
